


Collar-Bound

by Kitchyy



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: BDSM, First Time, Humiliation, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitchyy/pseuds/Kitchyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M9X-918 has the largest trading markets in all of Pegasus, but in order to trade there, John and his team must abide by those people's rules, and one of those rules include some of them wearing collars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collar-Bound

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a multi fandom challenge over on livejournal called Perverse_bang. Hearts, stars and glitter for my lovely betas Popkin16 and Wanted_a_pony. Thank you so much guys! 
> 
> Prompt: For whatever non-sexual reason (dare, lost a bet, punishment for something), Character A has Character B in an collar and leash. At first Character A goes along with it for the sake of it until they find out that Character B is actually getting off on the humiliation and submission then it suddenly becomes the hottest thing in the world.

* * *

 

"Um... Could you repeat that?" John asks in what he hopes isn't a strangled voice.  
  
Teyla holds herself with that diplomatic air, but John knows her tells these days and she can't hide a spark of amusement when she looks at him from across the conference table. "I said, the planet is what we would call Collar-Bound."   
  
John knows that 'Collar-Bound' is the Pegasus equivalent of a BDSM world. He'd read highly classified and heavily redacted SGC mission reports about planets like this in the Milky Way and had hoped that maybe it was just a quirk of their galaxy. Beside him, Rodney looks like he's just been served a five-star meal with slices of lemon on top.  
  
Now John's hope is dwindling to a depressing state of glum acceptance.  
  
Ronon nods at Teyla. "Sateda used to trade with them all the time. They make high quality leather and armor."  
  
Yes, John is sure they have an extensive knowledge of both armor and leather. It's what they developed those crafts for that makes him hesitant about this mission.  
  
"And you're sure they have the largest markets in Pegasus?" Elizabeth asks with the look of a woman who is suddenly very glad she isn't on a gate team.  
  
Teyla nods. "That is correct. However, as I have said, new trading partners must meet with the Magistrate of the town first and bring tribute to its citizens."  
  
Rodney puts his hands out in supplication. "Don't get me wrong, I think this is a fantastic opportunity for us to find any Ancient equipment that might be lying around, but wouldn't it be wise for Lorne's team to, you know... check things out first?"  
  
John does a double take. The traders are from all over Pegasus, and rumor has it that Ancient equipment shows up from time to time. Rodney, the Ancient tech guy and ZPM bloodhound extraordinaire doesn't want to go?   
  
"What's with you?" John asks, "five minutes ago you were ready to dial up the planet and run through the gate on your own."  
  
Rodney lifts his chin, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Yes, well, that was before I heard the planet was an open air whips and chains club."  
  
"They're still people, McKay," Ronon says scornfully. "They just do things differently than you."  
  
"How are they with gate travellers?" Elizabeth asks.  
  
Teyla shrugs. "They are frequent traders. As long as we follow their rules and bring an offering for trade, we should have permission to enter the market." Which sounds pretty fair, all things considered. It's a good way to screen possible trading partners.  
  
"Does anyone know what they need?" John asks.  
  
Ronon leans back in his chair and scratches idly at his chin. "They always liked keffir skins, the softer the better. Food's always good, too. They also like rova leaves."  
  
John nods thoughtfully. Trading food is out of the question. The amount Atlantis goes through keeps them always on the lookout for food trading partners. It's yet another reason the market on M9X-918 holds so much appeal. Keffir are animals not unlike rabbits; their hides would make very soft, high quality leather. Rova is a plant used to dye fabrics a rich shade of blue.  
  
Teyla frowns in thought. "The keffir skins are easy to acquire. I'm sure my people will be willing to part with some of their stock. The rova leaves will be harder to find due to their rarity."  
  
"Didn't M5R-725 have those Rova plants?" John asks.  
  
Elizabeth hums in agreement. "SGA-4 checked that planet a few months ago. We could get a few bags from there."  
  
"This is all well and good," Rodney says, "but, what happens if they don't let us in the market?"  
  
John raises his brows in confusion. "You don't want to take that chance?"  
  
"I didn't say that, but we don't know anything about their culture! What happens if we break a law or something? I don't feel like getting publicly spanked." Rodney crosses his arms, looking disturbed.  
  
Teyla bites her lip and tries not to laugh. "Both Ronon and I have been to this planet before. The rules are much the same as on other worlds. Do not do anything rash or stupid and I'm certain you will be fine."  
  
Elizabeth looks like she's thinking everything over, and finally nods once in John's direction. "Alright, I'll get SGA-4 to head back to '725 and get a few bags. Teyla, see how many skins your people can spare. I don't want to take stocks that your people need. You'll be heading for M9X-918 tomorrow at 0900 Atlantis time."  
  
Teyla clears her throat. "There is... One more thing I feel I must mention."  
  
When Teyla is hesitant it rarely translates to a good thing. John frowns. "What is it?"  
  
"They prefer to trade with pairs," she says and her eyes seem to be trying to tell him something important.  
  
"So only two of us can go?" Rodney asks.  
  
Teyla shakes her head. "No, we can all go, but to trade with the people of Massett we must show them that we are unafraid of their ways. They have come under much discrimination in the past because of their culture, which is the reason for the rules in their markets."  
  
John finally gets it when Elizabeth makes a choking sound and tries very hard to make sure his eyes don't bug out. "Wait, so you mean--"  
  
"I'll be Teyla's," Ronon says immediately with a gleeful sideways glance between him and Rodney.  
  
Oh,  _hell_  no. "I'm sure there are other ways to trade with them...?" John tries to make it as delicate as possible.  
  
Rodney looks panicky. "Oh no, no, no. Just—no. There must be an easier way than this."  
  
"There is not." Teyla replies. "Their rules are very clear in this matter. We may wear whatever we like, but the collar and chain is non-negotiable. The submissive wears the collar, and the chain is held by the dominant."  
  
John is about to ask where the hell they can even get this stuff when Rodney sputters. "This is absolutely absurd! You expect me to waltz around dragging the Colonel everywhere I go?"  
  
 _What_? "Who said I was wearing a collar?" John snaps.  
  
Rodney raises a single brow in his direction. "Because there's no way I'm wearing a collar in public!"  
  
"In  _public_?" John asks with a smirk.  
  
Rodney flushes crimson. "You know what I mean!"  
  
Elizabeth closes her laptop with a final click and stands. "I'm sure you two will be able to work it out." She smiles at John, very unsympathetically he notices, and leaves the conference room.  
  
Teyla stands as well. "My people have a few collars for trading with Massett. I will make sure to bring some with the keffir skins." Teyla hightails it out of the conference room too. Ronon slaps a coin down in front of John as he follows after.  
  
He and Rodney are still sitting there glaring at each other. John carefully thinks the conference doors shut. There's no way he wants the other inhabitants of Atlantis to hear this conversation.  
  
"No." Rodney says again, and folds his arms against his chest, brooking no argument.  
  
"Rodney, it's just a mission, but you've got to remember that I'm the leader of this team. If something happens I'll need to act without asking your permission." John replies. There, that sounds reasonable and level-headed. John and Teyla do all the diplomatic talking anyways. Rodney in charge of him means he's in charge of the meet and greet part, and that has disaster written all over it.   
  
"And I'm going to need the independence to move around the market without you dragging me around," Rodney rebuts.  
  
"That's after we do the meet and greet thing. It'll only be the four of us then." Rodney looks like he's ready to argue this until old age. "Look, we both have good reasons not to wear the collar, so let's make it fair." John picks up the coin Ronon left on the table, which is one commonly used in Pegasus. One side has Satedan number values, the other side flat. Sateda coins came very close to becoming universally accepted across the galaxy before the Wraith destroyed their civilization. "Numbers or flat?"  
  
"I'm not deciding this on a coin toss!" Rodney squawks.  
  
"Well, you got a better idea?"  
  
Rodney's glare shifts between him and the coin. "Yes, not doing this at all."  
  
John waves the coin slowly back and forth. "And what about all that Ancient tech? There could even be ZPM's." They don't actually know if there are ZPM's there or not, but the possibility is more than enough to get Rodney going. With one last curse, Rodney reaches out and snatches the coin from between John's fingers.   
  
"I call flat." Rodney flips the coin with a flick of his thumb, catches it in mid-air and slaps it on the back of his hand. John stands to watch the reveal.  
  
Numbers. John lets out a breath he didn't know he held and claps Rodney on the back. "See you in the gate room at 0900. Don't forget your collar."  
  
John decides to stage a tactical retreat before Rodney can argue further.  


* * *

  
  
John checks over the bag of skins and rova leaves once more, then straightens as the Gate engages. John still can't believe they're doing this. It just feels so... weird. Ronon helps lift one of the two large bags, a thin brown collar sits comfortably around his neck. Teyla is beside him holding the chain attached to his collar. It's long and fine, and shines like a piece of jewellery.   
  
Well, no time like the present. He turns to Rodney, who is looking distastefully down at the collar in his hands. This one is black and the leather is supple and smooth. The chain attached to it is thicker, more utilitarian. John has a feeling Teyla chose these ones for a reason.  "You need help putting it on?" John asks quietly.  
  
"Are we sure we can't just, I don't know, gate to the Alpha site, first?" Rodney asks with a hint of desperation.  
  
"Rodney, this stuff is heavy. Besides, there's people at the Alpha site too. Someone is going to see you put the collar on," John explains.  
  
Rodney closes his eyes like he's trying to draw from an internal pool of serenity, then buckles the collar around his neck. "Here," Rodney shoves the--well, there really isn't a better name for it-- _leash_ into John's hands. "Let's just get this over with."  
  
 _Rodney's leash_. Yeah, it sounds just as strange inside his head. With a bemused shake of his head, John picks up the other large bag of goods and turns towards the top of the stairs where Elizabeth stands. "We're good to go. We'll stay in regular radio contact."  
  
Elizabeth nods. "Good luck."  
  
"There better be the largest ZedPM stash in that marketplace the Pegasus galaxy has ever seen," Rodney mutters.  
  
John smiles and steps through the gate to midafternoon sunlight, the smell of fresh grass and rich earth. The air is crisp and cool with the scent of spring and there's a path leading through low yellow-green grass towards a group of multi colored tents in the distance.  
  
"That is our destination." Teyla points and starts walking.  
  
By the time the bag John is carrying starts to get uncomfortably heavy they're finally at the entry to a market, only it isn't quite like any market John's seen before. The place is bigger than anything he's seen in Pegasus, like a small city almost.   
  
There are traders, buyers, and sellers just like normal, but the people are wearing things that makes John's ears redden. No one is naked or anything, but the clothes are mostly leather and very revealing. Most people are in pairs, a few are in groups of threes or more. Hands linger over the curve of a hip or the small of a back much more openly than he's seen in a long time. It's something John should have been prepared to see and he curses himself for his lack of mental preparation.   
  
"Oh my god, they're all a bunch of hedonists!" Rodney hisses.  
  
John yanks on the chain to catch Rodney's attention. "Shut it, McKay," John murmurs.  
  
Rodney's eyes go unreadable and glassy for a moment before his glare returns in spades and he looks like he's about to argue. Just then an important looking woman arrives with a young man on a leash in tow. She stands in the middle of the street, blocking their way.   
  
"I heard there were new people who came through the gate." The woman waits expectantly.  
  
Teyla steps forward. "We are here to trade, but we do not need a stall. We merely wish to look through the goods and buy things we may need."  
  
The woman is blonde and wears a very low-cut maroon leather onesie with a matching belt and high-heeled thigh high boots. She narrows her eyes shrewdly. "What planet are you from?"  
  
"Athos. I am Teyla Emmagan and this is Ronon, my Satedan. I have also brought some friends who wish to trade."  
  
"I am Lerpa, this is my pet, Onad." She addresses the man just behind her who nods. The woman's face eases as she looks at Ronon.  "Satedan, you say? Our people traded often with yours once. We are glad to have you on our soil again."  
  
Ronon grunts and bows his head in acknowledgement. Teyla touches Ronon's arm. "You may speak to her if that is what you wish, my pet."  
  
If John wasn't shocked at the interactions between Teyla and Ronon before, he most certainly is now. Ronon looks solely at Teyla, as if the sun and moon revolves around her. "Thank you, mistress," he murmurs, then he looks at Lerpa. "It's good to be back here."  
  
He and Rodney share a look. The rules have changed a bit: John didn't think speaking was on the list of things he needed to give Rodney permission to do. Rodney is the man who can't shut up and that makes John more than a little nervous.   
  
He leans over, making it look like he's adjusting Rodney's collar and whispers, "If you need to say something tap me twice, OK?"  
  
A strange, unreadable expression crosses Rodney's face and it brings John up short. Lerpa catches his frown so he puts on his best good-natured trading face. "Colonel John Sheppard. This is Doctor Rodney McKay." He holds up the leash to illustrate, then turns to Rodney. "You can say hi too, if you like."  
  
All at once Rodney comes to life. "Yes, yes, hi. Look, we're kind of in a hurry, here. So, Magistrate?"  
  
Lerpa's brows shoot upwards but she doesn't stare at Rodney. She's locking eyes with John instead, like he has some kind of control over - oh. Yeah. This is going to take some getting used to. John shrugs in a 'what can you do' kind of way.  
  
"Is he always this... ill trained?" She asks.  
  
John chuckles. "This is good behavior. You should have seen him three years ago."  
  
Lerpa nods seriously. "You have your work cut out for you. Perhaps once your business is done you can take a look at some of our discipline stalls."  
  
John grabs Rodney's arm tight when he looks like he's about to reply with something snarky and liable to get them kicked off the planet for good. "Just keep thinking ZPM, OK?" He whispers.  
  
Rodney nods tightly. "Largest. ZedPM stash.  _Ever_." He mutters under his breath  
  
Lerpa watches their exchange with a frown. "If you wish to trade with us you will need to speak with the Magistrate, as he is the one who chooses the worlds we trade with. Please, follow us." She turns to leave and puts a delicate hand on Onad's cheek. "Come, Onad." Her hand slides away and John suspects that if the leash weren't there Onad would still follow her barefoot over molten broken glass.  
  
They walk through the market and into the small town, which is small compared to the market. The houses are made of grey brick with thatched roofs; they remind John of Shakespearian era movies. The ground beneath them changes from packed earth to cobblestone as Lerpa leads them to a house with a wide veranda and an equally wide balcony on the second floor.  
  
The inside of the house is warm and inviting. With a curt, "wait here," from Lerpa, they are left alone. When the Magistrate comes out to greet them John sees a grey haired, barrel chested man in his late fifties, which is impressive for Pegasus.  
  
"New traders. They wish to have permission to look through the market." Lerpa says.  
  
"Thank you, Lerpa. I'll speak with them." He nods to her in dismissal and she bows her head and leaves with Onad. Once the door closes behind them he waves John's team into a sitting room.  
  
It's an interesting place. The walls are a warm, tan color, the wide windows are open to the late afternoon sunlight. There are a few overstuffed chairs in front of a banked fire, and a couch is near the center of the room. The tables and cabinets are all done in dark browns and pewter, and near the window a settee catches John's eye and makes his ears heat up again.  
  
There are two people sitting on it: a woman in her thirties, and a man who is twenty-five at most. Both wear revealing clothing and collars. They lounge against each other prettily and inviting, looking like living paintings.   
  
"I understand that you wish to trade with Massett?" The Magistrate asks, and John snaps his eyes away from the two submissives and back to the business at hand. They show him their tribute and he smiles.  
  
"The keffir skins are high in quality, but the rova leaves!" He laughs and runs his hands over a few of the long, thin blades of plant-life in the bag. "And what is it that you want from us?" He asks bluntly.  
  
John shrugs. "Heard you had a pretty decent marketplace. We're interested in trading."  
  
Rodney steps forward. "I know we don't have too much to trade at the moment, but it would be really useful if--"  
  
"Rodney," John hisses in warning and grabs his arm to shut him up.  
  
Rodney looks like he hasn't noticed. "--If you'd like we can even make a list of things we can bring in the future to--"  
  
The Magistrate gives him the same look as Lerpa. John swallows his misgivings about the collar and leash, wraps it around his hand and pulls Rodney back beside him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Magistrate. It won't happen again," John says but he isn't looking at the Magistrate, he's looking at Rodney, who is flushed and angry. His mouth is a tilted line and his fists are clenching and unclenching at his sides.  
  
The Magistrate looks annoyed. "You are new to Massett, so I will make allowances, but you should explain to your pet that a collared sub should not speak to another without permission. It is... disrespectful towards their dom, and a very quick way to earn a painful punnishment."  
  
He's speaking to John, but the message is clearly meant for Rodney. He gives the scientist a hard look and nods. "I understand, Magistrate, and now, so does Rodney."   
  
The Magistrate looks like he's still waiting for something. When John catches Teyla's eye she nudges her chin towards them and he suddenly gets it. He turns to Rodney again. "If you need to talk to these people, then you ask me for permission first."  
  
Rodney's burning an angry stare into the tiled floor but he doesn't say anything and damn it, Rodney needs to respond that he gets it.   
  
"Look at me, please." John orders.  
  
"I understand." Rodney replies with a hint of aggression. The rest of John's lecture goes out the window when Rodney looks at him.  
  
"Well... good." John says numbly and turns to the Magistrate, who looks appeased.  
  
Rodney has a glass face, and they've been on more than enough missions for John to learn what damn near every facial expression means. Rodney is angry, yes, a little humiliated, and most definitely annoyed. There's also an unmistakable heat underneath it all that John never suspected he would see. As realization sinks in John almost drops the leash. Rodney is  _turned on_.  
  
"We are believers of the ancestors," Teyla explains, and thank God someone is on the ball because John is having trouble thinking past Rodney being turned on. "We are looking for their artifacts."  
  
"And your goods reflect that. I see." The Magistrate says with new understanding. He steps away from the goods and to the settee with the two collared people sitting on it.  
  
"What do you think my darlings?" The Magistrate asks. "You may speak freely here." He adds with a pointed look at John that make his cheeks warm.  
  
The woman eyes the goods curiously. "I wonder what it is they want in particular from the Ancestors artifacts?"  
  
John can see Rodney vibrating. "You can speak."  
  
Rodney still looks tense and his cheeks are still flushed. "We want to learn from them." He says simply and John squeezes his shoulder for a job well done.  
  
The young man nods but narrows his eyes at Rodney. "I see no reason for a negative decision, my master, but the loud one, he should be taught proper manners."  
  
The Magistrate chuckles and runs his fingers through the mans short brown hair. "That is a job for his master, but I see your point."  
  
The Magistrate gives John an assessing look, as if sizing him up, then goes to a cabinet and opens it. John barely chokes back a gasp. Inside is an array of objects: three long canes--the first has a thin, reed-like length, the second is a little larger and the third is as thick as his two fingers put together. There are two whips, and several things ending in multiple strips, and an assortment of other toys that he's sure are for penetration. There are leather cuffs of varying widths, and four different collars on a shelf. The thinnest one is like Rodney's and Ronon's, the others more extreme all the way to one that's four inches thick with lacing up the back. John can feel a tremor in his hands and clamps down hard on his nerves. If he shows hesitation here he's pretty sure they're as good as done.   
  
The Magistrate touches on a few different items, finally landing on and stroking a handled flogger; the leather strips are as long as his forearm and painful looking. He pulls it out and tests it on his hand with a few dull thwaps.  
  
John catches Rodney's adams apple bob in a dry swallow. So maybe pain isn't part of what turns him on? John isn't sure. In fact, he isn't sure about a lot of things when it comes to the head scientist just now.  
  
"This is for you," the Magistrate says and offers out the flogger. "If he shows you disrespect again..."  
  
John forces his hands to steady as he takes it. "Thanks," He replies and copies the Magistrate's actions by smacking his hand a few times. The sound of leather on skin is louder than he expects but it isn't painful, more of a tingle. John is sure it could make a lot of noise without doing a lot of damage, which he really doesn't like thinking about. The last thing he wants is to have to use it on Rodney in a situation like this.  
  
Rodney doesn't jump or flinch as John tests it, but his eyes go round, and the heat in his eyes is getting dangerously closer to obvious. Fuck.   
  
John has a rule--a very good rule--called Don't Fuck Teammates and he follows it to the letter. The easiest way to create drama and unnecessary risk is to break that rule. He got close with Teyla once and shut that down; he doesn't have a problem shutting this down, either.  
  
So he ignores the brightness in those blue eyes, pretends he doesn't see the way Rodney tracks the movements of his hands as he slides the flogger into his pack, and acts like he doesn't know the underlying meaning of John holding Rodney's leash.   
  
"Do we have permission to trade in your markets?" Teyla asks.  
  
The Magistrate looks out the window at the slowly sinking sun. "Teyla Emmagan of Athos, do you think these traders will benefit Massett?"  
  
Tela straightens her back and suddenly she isn't part of SGA-1, but Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagan, leader of the Athosian people. "I would not have brought them to your world had I thought otherwise."  
  
The Magistrate runs a finger over his beard, then looks between John and Teyla. "By the laws of our world another has spoken for you. You may trade with us. But be warned, you must abide by our rules while you are here."  
  
John dips his head in understanding. "Thank you, Magistrate."  
  
"Please, now that we are trading friends, you may call me Tellak." He replies with a smile.  
  
"And you can call me John. This is Rodney." He says with a gesture. "Rodney, if you like you can talk." He says gently.  
  
"Thank you  _ever_ so much." Rodney mutters sarcastically so only John can hear; then, louder, "Thank you, Magistrate Tellak. Now, do you know when we can start trading?"  
  
"You may leave now if you absolutely must, but I think it is preferable to stay, eat and be well rested for tomorrow, don't you?" He replies with a sweep of his arm toward the windows and waning sunlight.  
  
John and Teyla trade looks, but he avoids joining Ronon in with his glance. He's starting to get the hang of this world and holding a gaze with a collared sub is like kissing another man's wife, you just don't do it. He doesn't want to have to fight Teyla because he looked at Ronon wrong.  
  
She shrugs and lifts her brows:  _I do not know this custom, your choice_.  
  
John thinks it over. They left a few hours ago and have a long way to go before they leave. "We accept," John replies, "but nothing can have citrus in it. Rodney isn't allowed."  
  
Tellak smiles widely and claps his hands together. "Excellent! I'll advise the servants." He heads for the door but pauses before he leaves.  "My rule stands, pets. You may speak freely with our guests."  
  
"Thank you, master," they reply in creepy unison.  
  
"Thanks, for the citrus thing." Rodney murmurs, John is still reeling from Rodney being quiet and well-behaved (for him), and looking at John like he's in free fall and John's the only one with a parachute.  
  
Teyla makes a show of pressing her hand to Ronon's cheek. "You may always speak freely."  
  
"Ok, thanks, Mistress." Ronon replies with that same quiet adoration. John wonders what kinds of undercover missions Ronon's done in the past to make his face change that way. Or, possibly, he and Teyla already have something, in which case... well, good for them.  
  
John looks at Rodney standing beside him, head down and fidgeting fingers twitching in front of him. He can see Rodney is trying, and something warm and protective rises up inside. "You're doing good. Just thought you should know."  
  
Rodney looks up, surprised and a little annoyed, but still aroused, and that goes straight to his dick. Rodney's never looked at him like John could start and stop anything he wants. John realizes with a small jolt he really could start anything here and Rodney wouldn't just be allowed to take part, but expected to.  
  
Which brings him to not ignoring Rodney again and damn it, that's not how this mission needs to go. Ronon and Rodney are both vulnerable parties here, so he and Teyla must be doubly vigilant in their guard. John pointedly does not think about the flush in Rodney's cheeks, the heat in his eyes--or the collar around his neck that John is starting to fixate on.  
  
When a servant comes in and tells them dinner is ready, they are led to a different room with a wide, round table laden with food. It's the most normal thing about this mission so far. Seven chairs surround the table, and, OK, that's sort of normal too. But four of them are wooden stools placed between high-backed chairs shaped with a single point jutting up from each seat-back. John doesn't get it, but Tellak demonstrates their use when he sits and tosses his sub's leash ends over the point, like a purse string or a backpack strap.   
  
Teyla and Ronon go to the table and do the same. Well,  _when in Rome_... John spares a quick look at Rodney. He's visibly struggling to get himself under control so John pats his shoulder and tugs him along.  
  
John finds something else new and confusing when faced with the dinnerware. John would call it a plate--because, honestly, that's what it is, it's white and rectangular--but it spans his and Rodney's eating area, with a single spacer built into the plate. It brings a whole new meaning to split the bill. John decides not to say that out loud.  
  
"Just perfect." Rodney whispers sarcastically so only John can hear. John wholeheartedly agrees.  
  
"Please, enjoy," Tellak offers, and starts piling food on all the plates in front of him while his two subs wait patiently.  
  
"I can't even choose my own food?" Rodney complains. His face is scrunched in vehement dislike.  
  
The young man beside Tellak huffs and his eyes go wide with disbelief. "How is it you put up with him?" He asks John.  
  
"What, Rodney?" John asks as he adds food to both their plates. "I like a challenge." He replies and tries very hard to ignore the flush that  rises in Rodney's cheeks again. God, will this happen every time?  
  
"Challenge. Yes." He replies faintly and looks over Rodney with disdain.  
  
Which is pretty unfair. If he knew how Rodney usually behaved he'd know how fantastic Rodney is doing. He was never trained for undercover work or diplomacy, not like the rest of his team. Keeping up appearances in this kind of a situation is a hard thing to do. In fact, John is downright proud of Rodney, and shows it by sliding his hand over his shoulder and idly tracing fingertips over the black collar.  
  
Rodney looks up with a quirked eyebrow, but he looks surprised and oddly happy, too. It makes John want to keep touching him, and damn it,  _this is not part of the mission_.  
  
John's trying hard-- _very_ hard--to keep this whole thing with Rodney in its little box inside his head, where he started putting his 'thing with Rodney' issues when they first met. He's the military commander of Atlantis; Rodney's on his gate team, and as far as he can tell, completely straight. It's a recipe for absolute disaster and he's gone through enough shitty relationships in his life. He needed an entire galaxy to get away from Nancy. He has no idea how far he'd need to travel to get away from Rodney if things went south.  
  
He moves his hand down and away from Rodney and breathes slowly and evenly, in and out. Damn Ronon for claiming Teyla as his partner on this mission, damn the marketplace for being on this planet and damn himself for not giving this mission to Lorne like Rodney suggested.  
  
The rest of dinner is surprisingly easy, Tellak's subs ask a lot of intelligent questions about the worlds they've travelled to. When dinner is over, the drapes are drawn against the darkness outside and the candles are lit. Tellak stretches and stands. "If you like, you may join me in the lounge to speak more of your travels. My pets do love to hear your stories."  
  
Rodney looks tired and John turns to him. "Tell me what you want." John murmurs.  
  
He and Rodney lock eyes and he knows it was the wrong question, because Rodney's looking at him like _tell me what you want_  doesn't mean food or conversation. Rodney's expression makes John wonder how straight he really is. It makes John wonder a lot of things he shouldn't think about right now.   
  
Just as John opens his mouth to say something more, realization washes over Rodney's features.  _He knows that I know now_ , John thinks. A strange string of emotions chase across Rodney's face: fear, anger, self-disgust, and finally a humiliation that goes so deep John doesn't know if there's a bottom.  
  
John puts a hand on the small of Rodney's back to try to calm him and he flinches away, as if he doesn't think he's worthy of John's touch, and that's not right at all. He wonders if this is why Rodney shies away from human contact. It damn near breaks his heart.  
  
"Magistrate Tellak?" John asks, not taking his eyes from Rodney's now bowed head. "Rodney and I need a place to talk in private. Now."  
  
Rodney's shoulders bunch defensively. The young man smirks at Rodney as well, most likely thinking John has reached the end of his rope and will punish him.  
  
"There are some rooms upstairs the servants have set up for you." Tellak snaps his fingers and a young woman wearing a grey floor length robe appears at a doorway with a lit candle. "Show them to their quarters."  
  
"Thank you," John replies and stands, barely remembering to grab the leash.  
  
He's just about to leave with Rodney in tow when Tellak says, "If you need food or... anything else, there will be a servant at the stairwell to aid you."  
  
John understands the 'anything else' with a clarity he wishes he didn't and nods his acknowledgement. Teyla and Ronon look confused but not worried. He will explain what he can to them, but later. Right now he needs to deal with this whole Rodney situation, and fast.   
  
They barely get through the bedroom door when Rodney hurries as far away from him as he can, already scrabbling at the collar, trying to find the clasp. He avoids eye contact with John completely.   
  
"Rodney, stop." His hands freeze but he still won't look up.   
  
"You think it's funny, don't you?" He says bitterly. "The most intelligent man in the world, turned on by a fucking strip of leather."  
  
"That's enough, Rodney." John says sharply. Rodney finally looks up but he still looks broken, little-boy-lost and John wants to wipe that look from his face. "Different people like different things. Nothing's wrong with that."  
  
"Other people thought it was gross." Rodney says, and there's pain in his voice.  
  
He had a feeling that was the way of things. John gets it, he really does. There isn't much understanding when it comes to liking boys and being in the Air Force either.   
  
"I'm not other people, I'm your friend, remember?" Rodney still doesn't look convinced, which annoys him more than he knows it should.  "This doesn't change how I see you."  
  
Rodney's eyes flash brilliant and angry. "It should."  
  
"Will you shut up for a minute?" John huffs. He isn't used to this self-hating version of Rodney who looks so small and vulnerable.   
  
He's never been good with words, isn't able to spout well-timed insults like Rodney, or perfect speeches like Elizabeth. Feelings weren't talked about in the Sheppard home much, so John does what he always--well, _sometimes_ \--does when he feels something. He shows it.  He reaches for Rodney and wraps his arms around him.  
  
"What--what are you doing?" Rodney asks. His voice quivers.  
  
"Showing you something," John replies simply. He holds Rodney so close he can feel every breath he takes, see the dots of sweat on his temple, feel the twitches running under his skin. He shouldn't be this close. He isn't close enough. "This doesn't change how I see you, Rodney. It isn't wrong."  
  
"I'm sorry. For this." Rodney mumbles in a tiny voice, and that isn't right either. Rodney never apologizes.  
  
"Damn it, Rodney," John mutters into his neck and runs his fingers through his hair.  
  
He should say something to try and calm Rodney, to make light of the situation and bring them back to something closer to normal. He cups the back of Rodney's neck, tracks his thumb along the soft skin just behind his ear until shadowed blue eyes look up at him. His hand trails down to Rodney's neck, his thumb strokes his pulse point and slides lower until he's stroking the collar.  
  
He doesn't let himself think, he just presses their foreheads together, then slides his head down and breathes in deep where the leather collar meets his skin. He smells like the science lab, coffee, sweat and leather tang with a hint of Rodney underneath it all. He hears Rodney's sharp inhale, his shock and surprise. His fingers trail from the back of his neck to the side, along the edge of the collar. John wants it to be his collar, he thinks, suddenly. He wants Rodney to be his.  
  
"John?" Rodney whispers, choked and very quiet. John can't help himself. It's like he's drawn to his wide, sturdy shoulders, strong neck and crooked mouth. He doesn't know who starts it, but all of a sudden they're kissing like their lives depend on it, like air comes second place to Rodney's mouth.   
  
John's done a lot of kissing in his life but he doesn't remember a kiss as powerful as this before. Rodney goes soft and pliant under his hands, and a moan vibrates over his lips.   
  
"Oh  _goddamn_ , Rodney," John growls. It's like a secret, seeing Rodney like this, like he's naked and vulnerable and John doesn't want anyone else to see this. "Mine," John whispers, and he doesn't know where this is coming from. He's never felt this protective of anyone before, but he is with Rodney trembling in his arms and hanging onto him like letting go might just break him apart.  
  
"Are you sure? About this, I mean." Rodney asks worriedly.  
  
"I—yeah," John admits.  
  
Rodney clenches tightly on John's shirt and buries his face into John's neck, making himself surprisingly small for such a large man.   
  
"Are you sure that you're sure? I mean, I'm not actually all that good at this kind of stuff. I like it, sure, but I've been told that I'm sort of... a challenge and I don't--"  
  
Of course he's a challenge, he wouldn't be Rodney if he wasn't. It's part of what makes him the interesting man he is. But it's not just that. John likes the way Rodney feels in his arms: the weight and width fill him with warmth. So he waits until Rodney goes lax again, runs slow, gentle fingers over Rodney's back, neck and hair.   
  
"Tell me what you want," John orders quietly again, "And I want you to do it using one syllable words." John can feel the curve of Rodney's lips in a smile.  
  
"I want you to do more of this, but I want you to hold me down, too." Rodney says hesitantly. "I... I like that."  
  
John backs up just enough to tug Rodney's face towards his. "I can do that. Take off your gear and go lay on the bed, ok?"  
  
John steps away from Rodney and to the door, and thank god there's a lock so John doesn't have to use a chair. As he flips the lock John wonders if he's losing his mind. He's actually contemplating having off-world sex while on a mission. With a team-mate.  
  
Yes, definitely insane. Maybe it was something in the food.  
  
He turns around, half-convinced he should tell Rodney they can't do this, not here and not now, but Rodney has taken off his clothes and is lying on the bed wearing only a faded pair of boxers. The look on his face is still so vulnerable, like Rodney might break if John were to say or do one thing wrong. It calls to something deep inside him, makes him say fuck it to all the reasons he should say no. Rodney is loud and boisterous, full of life and babbled words and rapid-fire insults for any kind of stupidity. Rodney should never look so  _breakable_.  
  
Knowing that Rodney's willing to show this much trust makes John feel like he's given a gift too delicate for his clumsy soldier's hands. But there's that unmistakable lust burning just under the surface, and Rodney's still wearing that collar, and John can't stop looking at him wearing it. John wants to see what he'd look like wearing only the collar and nothing else, with John's name engraved on the inside so he's always touching Rodney even when he isn't.  
  
John takes off his gear slowly, letting Rodney watch him. He makes sure his weaponry is within easy reach and when everything is off but shirt and pants he climbs on the bed, takes Rodney's wrists in his hands and presses them into the mattress just above his head.  
  
Rodney arches up, tight along John's front and starts to squirm so much John has to tighten his hold. When he does Rodney moans so deep John can feel it in his belly and lower down. John slides on top, belly to belly and hip to hip, his legs bracketed by warm, bare skin. He can feel the hot length of a half-hard cock press against his lower belly, and damn, John wants to do a lot of things to that cock and the man attached to it.  
  
"What else do you want, Rodney?" John asks. He can hardly believe he's seeing this, that this glassy-eyed man is the same one who yelled at him not three days ago for almost spilling coffee in the lab while he and Zelenka were working on a project.  
  
When no answer comes John decides to take the initiative and kisses Rodney, long and deep, claiming his mouth. It's mind-boggling that the loudest man in Atlantis is giving up control so readily and John can't help himself, he wants more of Rodney just like this, moaning and squirming under him.  
  
John kisses him once more and says, "Wanna see all of you, Rodney." It looks like Rodney's trying to come up out of the spell he's under so John lets go of a wrist and presses his finger to kiss swollen lips. "Yes or no."  
  
Rodney blinks rapidly a few times. "Yes," he replies. "but--"  
  
John knows Rodney is about to give him another argument, another reason that this isn't something he's good at, so he kisses the excuses away until Rodney kisses him back. Then the faded boxers slide down his thighs and he tosses them beside the rest of Rodney's clothes.  
  
Rodney has pale, milky skin, wide shoulders, defined arms and strong legs. His belly may not be defined but it's flat, and his chest is lightly dusted with hair. His nipples are standing erect and pink, and that cock--it's uncut, flushed and hard, and John's mouth waters at the tiny glisten of wet at the tip.  
  
"Goddamn..." John murmurs as he stares at the collar. He looks even better than John thought he would. John thought he'd only see him like this in dreams, laid out and wanting beneath him. John presses the heel of his hand into his erection to relieve some of the pressure and orders, "Turn over," because he needs to see every last inch of skin.  
  
Rodney's face is questioning, but he rolls over anyway to show the wide, pale expanse of his back. He's all smooth lines and more milky skin, and his ass--it's perfect, round, meaty, fleshy and as John slides a possessive hand over one globe, he finds it's firm too.  
  
But there's one blemish. Rodney had been lying on the leash. John traces his fingers over the patterned indentation along one shoulder and across one shoulder-blade.  
  
"Its..." Rodney hesitates and tips his head down. "It doesn't hurt. Besides, even if it did, I... Sometimes I like that. But, not a lot! I'm not a masochist or anything."  
  
John unlocks the leash and drops it to the floor with a clatter. "It's OK, Rodney," John soothes. He runs his hands over the indentation again and suddenly John doesn't like that this mark reddens his skin.  
  
He wants Rodney as his, and there's this feeling that keeps rising up in him as he looks at Rodney lying under him. John kneels between Rodney's spread legs and settles down, covering all of Rodney with his weight. He presses his nose into the back of Rodney's shoulder; he smells like John's need personified and he can't stop it even if he tried. He takes Rodney's wrists again, grinds into a perfect ass cheek and bites down on the place where neck meets shoulder. Rodney jerks and shudders.  
  
"Yeah, oh damn, John," he whimpers and John continues to bite and suck until a bruise forms. He pulls back to stare, and the more he does, the more right it looks. It isn't enough any longer that he can feel Rodney's skin with his hands, he needs to feel it everywhere. He pulls off his shirt, then slides back down and oh yeah, that's exactly what he's been missing: heat and smooth skin and Rodney right below him with nothing between.  
  
John starts kissing Rodney's shoulders, just little pecks here and there and takes Rodney's wrists in his hands again, places them above his head and wraps his hands over Rodney's fists. John looks up and that looks right too, the kind of right he hasn't seen or felt for a long time. It feels good, but it's scary too. He knows this feeling. It felt right the first time he and Nancy got together too, and John  _married_  that woman.  
  
"John," Rodney whines because it seems John's taken temporary leave of his senses during this epiphany and has been grinding into Rodney's ass for god only knows how long.  
  
"Don't worry, Rodney, I'm right here," he soothes, and kisses his shoulders again. "Wanna explore your body. Will you let me do that?" Rodney sucks in a breath and nods his permission. John is amazed and humbled that he trusts John so easily. John licks a wet path from the edge of one shoulder to the other, then kisses each shoulder-blade, licks the fading line from the leash, kisses lower.  
  
The small of Rodney's back is wonderfully sensitive, his sides are a little ticklish, and when John touches the center of his spine with his tongue tip goosebumps break out over his skin. During all this Rodney is strangely subdued and quiet like he never is in the outside world.  
  
John presses kisses over each cheek of his ass and Rodney clenches his cheeks so the next kiss misses its mark. John smacks him firmly and goes back to what he was doing, but Rodney has gone still like death, even his breath has stalled.  
  
"Do you like getting spanked, Rodney?" John asks with a hungry edge after a weighted pause. The muscles in Rodney's back tense up and John can see the back of his neck flush bright pink.  
  
"Look, I already told you I'm not a masochist, ok? Sometimes I just--” Rodney makes a choked noise when John smacks him again. John watches, breathless and dizzy himself as his hand print comes up pink and bright.   
  
"Yes, or no?" John asks, because damn it, he's trying to get Rodney as deeply into this as he is, and the more the man talks, the more he begins thinking, and once the thinking starts it's near impossible to get him to stop.  
  
Rodney buries his face into the pillow, the back of his neck red. "Yes." He mumbles.  
  
"Thank you for sharing that with me," John replies, a little breathless as he strokes one of Rodney's ass cheeks and tries to find equilibrium here. John's really hard from all this, but he's never spanked anyone before, erotically or otherwise. He isn't sure how this works. Should he count? Does he go on until his hand hurts or until Rodney asks him to stop?  
  
The uncertainty swirls in John's head, but when he looks down Rodney's ass is like a siren call, and he can't keep himself from trailing fingers over the soft skin. He opens Rodney's legs wider, makes sure his chest is still pressed to the mattress, and gets Rodney's knees under him a bit more so his ass is raised and Rodney can't grind his cock into the mattress. All the while his eyes can't move away because Rodney like this is beautiful in ways John has never seen before.  
  
So John closes his eyes and lets instinct and intuition take over, which is a hell of a lot easier than worrying over it all. If he did something wrong he's sure Rodney will tell him... he hopes. The man usually has no shortcomings when it comes to that anyway. John brings his hand down on Rodney's ass just hard enough to make his skin pink, and Rodney,  _oh Jesus_ \--he's moaning and his hands are clenching in the sheets. A twist to the side shows John that Rodney is so hard his dick is bouncing off his stomach, a wet, clear thread of precum attaching him to the mattress below.  
  
Oh  _fuck_. John can feel himself break out in a sweat. He spanks Rodney a few more times to raise some color and spread the heat, and when Rodney moans John thinks that maybe he got this part right.  
  
With that boost of confidence, John's spanks gain speed and strength. He never knew that spanking someone could affect him so deeply, that seeing Rodney under him could be such an entrancing sight. Rodney's back is drenched with sweat. His legs are starting to tremble, too, and he wonders if Rodney could come just from this.  
  
He starts spanking in earnest, firm smacks on each cheek until he's bright red and moaning constantly, and oh, god, he's never seen anything as hot as this.  
  
It's doing something to John's brain, watching Rodney take this so sweetly, but he looks like he's nearing an end that John isn't so sure is an orgasm. So with two more smacks to the backs of Rodney's thighs, he stops and runs his hands gently over his hot, reddened skin.  
  
Now that John has stopped he can hear Rodney sobbing, just quiet, dry sobs and John leans down to kiss each cheek gently. "You took it beautifully, Rodney," John says. Rodney shivers and presses his face more firmly into the pillow. He kisses Rodney's ass again, and then once more, liking the heat and the whimpers Rodney makes. He opens Rodney's cheeks a bit and blows on his hole and Rodney presses his ass up, seeking cool air.  
  
Instead of blowing on him, John kisses his hole. Rodney may like spanking, but John has always liked this. He flicks his tongue out and traces over his entrance.  
  
"John-" Rodney says in a strangled voice, thick with desperation.  
  
"Can you come from this?" John asks and flicks his tongue. Because oh Jesus, that would be so hot.  
  
"Historically, no." Which sounds a hell of a lot like an open invitation to try and change that.  
  
John opens Rodney wide, licks him from balls to tailbone, presses just the tip of his tongue inside and moves in tiny circles. Rodney goes crazy but he still doesn't come, and John pulls out all the stops to see if he can make him.  
  
"Oh, god, I have to..." Rodney reaches for his cock, but John catches his hand and holds it fast. He jerks his head sideways and stares at John.  
  
"I want to make you come, Rodney." John tells him. Rodney's eyes are almost all pupil and he looks desperate. "Do you think you can do that for me?" Rodney bites his lip and he looks like he's having a huge internal debate. John looks for a long time at the arch of Rodney's back, the lines of his shoulders, how his ass is perfectly presented to him. It seems a lot of realizations are coming out of the woodwork tonight, and John knows that once they start tumbling out he needs to follow through. He can analyze everything later.  
  
"I want to fuck you." John blurts. Rodney's hole is still wet and shining from his mouth and he slides a finger inside. It's hot and wet and tight. "Can I do that?" John asks.  
  
"I won't last long," Rodney admits, which is good because John doesn't think he'll last long, either.  
  
"That's OK. I only want you to come while I'm inside you." John slides off the bed and rummages in his pack until he finds the med-kit and the tiny tube of medical lubricant. Then he yanks his BDU's off along with his boxers and climbs back on the bed between Rodney's spread legs. God, he looks delectable like that.  
  
The lube is cool on John's fingers and he watches with an awed fascination as his fingers disappear into heat and tightness. "I love watching this," John tells him. It's been a very long time since he's done this, and longer still since it's been a quick and dirty hand job, or blind fuck in a dark supply closet. Those were all teeth and growls and animalistic, more of a release than a pleasure, so John watches everything he does to Rodney, looking for the little tells that mean he likes it or he doesn't or he isn't quite sure.  
  
John's almost forgotten how much he loved watching this.  
  
"Oh, god..." Rodney whines and pushes his ass higher. John doesn't know why, but that one action is what pushes him over the edge of sanity. John pulls out three shaking fingers from Rodney's ass, uses the lube still on his hand to slick up his cock and then he's pressing his cock right against Rodney's hole.  
  
"Tell me how much you want this," John hopes he made it sound like an order, but it's really a plea. He needs to know he isn't alone, here.  
  
"I can't... Just, I need you. Fuck, John, now!" Rodney's panting and trying to back up, trying to impale himself on John's cock.  
  
He slides in with one long push until his balls are mashed up against Rodney's. His hands are gripping, white-knuckle tight over pale hips and he has to stay still, breathing until he's sure he won't fuck Rodney mindlessly into oblivion.  
  
"I have to come, John, please--” Rodney begs. John covers Rodney's back and presses a chaste kiss to the side of his neck.  
  
John starts to roll his hips, a slow relentless, deep pace, slides his hands around Rodney's chest and tweaks his nipples. Rodney shivers and arches his back, seeking more touch and John is amazed that Rodney takes everything he gives with a sweetness he's never seen with Rodney before.  
  
And John wants to see this again, wants to see Rodney moaning and stretched out, desperate for more because John put him in that space. He wants to see how far they can go together. John shifts to get deeper, feel more of Rodney, and on the next slow slide in Rodney jerks and moans. John tries to maintain the same angle and starts pistoning his hips in and out, sharp, deep jabs and Rodney cries out for more under him.  
  
John wants to make plans for every time they'll ever be alone now, but Rodney is tight and hot around his cock, and John's thoughts are beginning to fracture with the last of his control. All he can focus on is more and yes and Rodney. With what little brain power he has left John trails a hand down Rodney's body and grips his cock. Rodney's entire body trembles and he stiffens up like he's waiting for something.  
  
"Come, Rodney. I want you to come." John orders. It's like the floodgates open. Rodney surges up, his body clenches, his ass grips Johns dick so tight he can't even move as he comes.  
  
"It's ok, Rodney, I'm here," John whispers into Rodney's ear. "You're beautiful like this, you know that? Beautiful..."  
  
John runs out of vocabulary, can only repeat, "Beautiful," over and over as he speeds up. When John comes it's like he's emptying his soul out. His vision greys out around the edges and when he's done, he slides like jell-o to the side, off Rodney and onto his back next to him.  
  
Rodney's still breathing like a freight train and John isn't quite ready to look at him, doesn't know what he'll find in those blue eyes.   
  
He takes each of Rodney's hands and kisses the pulse point in each wrist. "I'm sorry if I hurt you." John says.  
  
Rodney snorts and lies gingerly down on his side next to John, carefully avoiding the wet spot.   
  
"That may have been the hottest sex I've ever had and you're apologizing?" Rodney asks.  
  
John finally looks up and meets Rodney's eyes, which are the happiest and clearest blue John has ever seen them. In fact, all of Rodney looks relaxed and sated, which John thinks is a very good look on him.   
  
"Next time we're using cuffs to keep your hands out of the way. Ones with padding." John's rewarded with a huge, delighted grin. He reaches out and pulls Rodney into his arms, cradling Rodney's face in the angle between neck and shoulder.  
  
He knows they have to clean up, but he'll do that when more of his brain cells have come back online. For now, all he wants to do is hold this man, this incredible, smart, sexy, kinky man that's all John's.  


* * *

  
  
The GDO beeps a confirmation that the shield is down, so John and the rest of his team step through the gate from planet M9X-918 back to Atlantis. It's good to be back home, even they've only been gone for a 28 hour day.  
  
Elizabeth comes down the stairs looking expectant and hopeful.  
  
"Elizabeth, we got ourselves a trade deal." John says without any preamble.  
  
Elizabeth smiles with relief. "That's excellent news. Were you able to take a look around the market?"  
  
Rodney shakes his head in a negative as he reaches behind him and unbuckles the collar. John feels disappointment rise up in him as the leather slides off.   
  
"We were going to but  _someone_ wanted to come back and give the good news first," He adds with an annoyed look in John's direction.   
  
John shrugs. "We have permission to go through to M9X-918 any time to trade, but Rodney's forgetting that we don't really have much to trade with since the stuff we brought was for greasing the wheels."  
  
Teyla helps Ronon remove the collar from his neck as she speaks. "We will still need these to trade--that will not change. However, the people of Atlantis will be welcome there."  
  
John can see Elizabeth trying to contain her excitement. "Great job everyone. Please, head to the infirmary for your post-mission, and then I want to hear all about it with a full debrief in the conference room."  
  
John knows a dismissal when he hears one. "C'mon guys, you heard the lady."  
  
As the team files out of the gate room toward the transporter, John leans towards Rodney and says quietly, "You know, I may have traded for something before we left."  
  
Rodney turns to him, curious. "What did you get?"  
  
John weighs telling Rodney now about the padded cuffs and matching leather collar hidden in his pack that he traded for his spare set of shades, but decides at the last moment to keep it a secret. He wants to see surprise and delight turn to heat when he shows them to Rodney tonight.   
  
"There's only one way to find out, isn't there? Come to my quarters tonight."  
  
Rodney's eyes go wide and John can already see the spark of interest there. "You're an evil man, you know that?"  
  
As they step into the transporter with Teyla and Ronon all John can do is smile.  
  
~end~


End file.
